


Eyes Wide Open

by saruma_aki



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Insecure Wade, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Outsider's Perspective, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Wade Has Issues, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14258652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saruma_aki/pseuds/saruma_aki
Summary: He was an enigma, bearing a cheery disposition, cracking jokes about even the most serious of topics, a broad smile shifting his mask as it would spread on his face. Practically anyone would be able to envision the light in his eyes whenever they watched him bounce around, twisting and twirling while a laugh would escape his throat. He was an enigma, blissfully unaware of the hesitance and irritation those around him exhibited--the looks and the sneers.Ignorance was bliss, but only if it was real.ORWade Wilson was an adventure, one Tony was starting to get to know, and getting to know Wade Wilson was an even bigger adventure than the man was.





	Eyes Wide Open

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is actually a couple of years old, and I just went back and edited a few things and finished it up. Hopefully it's okay. I don't even know where the hell it decided to go. It went in a completely different direction than I thought it would.
> 
> Enjoy, though!

It had been four days this time since he had locked himself in his lab, working away on suits and projects and little ideas that had barely begun to grow because he needed the distraction. It had been _four_ days without contact with other human beings or food or sleep or anything to drink besides old, cold coffee.

He had made sure the team knew that they could call him at any point in time; he just had a lot of work to catch up on, that was all. He had time to hang. This wasn’t to ostracize himself from them—they made him feel like that well enough on their own, though that was a completely different topic. This was just a workshop binge, to catch up, get ahead so that he would have some more free time later—free time he would probably end up spending in the workshop because being with the others was sometimes too stifling, but the free time was more for the possibility than an actual confirmation of doing something else.

He was planning on asking them if they wanted to decorate for the holidays. He hadn’t ever done that other than that one time with Aunt Peggy, but it had been a dollhouse and it hadn’t even been his. He wasn’t big on religion or holidays, but he knew the others were and if they did it as a team, he figured it could be a lot of fun, more fun than he would have doing it on his own, if he bothered to do it on his own.

They could be a bit more like a team, then—like a _family_.

It had been four days, though, and when he finally dragged himself out of the lab for coffee it was to see the tree in the corner of the living room—large and tall, decorated in bright yellow lights and sparkling ornaments.

They had put the Christmas tree up without him.

Tearing his gaze away was harder than he thought it would be—it wasn’t the first time he had been left out of group activities—but he managed and trudged to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee and then another, and another, before he decided to just pour all of it into a bottle and take it with him along with the three mugs.

Stuffing three granola bars in the band of his sweatpants, he trudged back downstairs with his three mugs and bottle clutched safely in his hands.

“FRIDAY, did anyone call for me when I was down here?” Tony asked, setting down his coffee and placing his bars next to it.

“No, sir,” FRIDAY responded, tone slightly pitying, knowing exactly what he was getting onto. Sometimes he hated the fact that he designed his AI’s so well that they managed to take on those human emotions like that. He really did not need that pity right now, did not need the situation to be confirmed as something awful that wasn’t just in his head.

“Right,” he sighed, throwing himself down into one of his chairs and taking a long sip of his coffee. “Put the lab on lockdown. Let me know if anyone calls for me,” he instructed as he moved to one of the holograms, immediately getting to work on designing an upgrade to his suits.

“Sir, I suggest you take at least a brief nap now.”

“Remind me again in an hour, FRIDAY.”

“Very well, sir.”

 

 

 

He had been down there for a week and half, hardly sleeping and with no food, only sipping old coffee, _again_ , that was disgustingly cold, _again_ , and had ceased to taste like coffee and resembled some heinous concoction more—like Dum-E’s shakes. Tilting his head back as he took another sip, failing to not make a face, tired expression turning into one of mild disgust, he cast a look around.

He had designed three new upgrades for the suit, made approximately six new ones, fashioned a new suit for Captain America, Hawkeye, and Black Widow, respectively, and had started working on getting Bruce a pair of shorts made that wouldn’t tear when he turned into the Hulk and would adjust to his size change. Now he was working on a new arrow design for Clint as well as trying to find a way the man would be able to hold more arrows on him than he could currently without limiting his maneuverability or throwing off his center of balance.

“Sir, it is necessary to inform you that you have an intruder in your lab.”

Tony stood, and it was a bit disconcerting how little he cared for the fact that someone broke into his lab, but he still called the suit to him, letting it assemble quickly piece by piece on his body. Just as the face mask fell into place, a certain red and black clad man poked his head out from behind a desk, hands raised just slightly by his head to signify surrender.

“Hello there,” Wade called, voice surprisingly sheepish as he slowly straightened, seeming hesitant despite the fact that any wound he received would heal.

“Deadpool,” Tony intoned, the suit disassembling from around him once it was determined there was no threat. “What can I help you with?” He couldn’t quite keep the exhaustion and annoyance out of his voice, wincing internally at how cold the words sounded.

He should have taken more naps.

“I was just, uh, wondering if you wanted to—or, I guess, would like to?—come help me decorate my room,” Deadpool responded, tone unsure, rocking to and fro on the balls of his feet, his arms crossed behind his back. Tony cringed, sending a look around his lab, at all the projects he had open, before they fell once again on the former-mercenary.

He could spend the rest of his day down here, watching from cameras as the team had fun without him, watch how Steve helped Bucky through the process of becoming an Avenger—just like Wade had recently become, though no one was helping him out as far as Tony knew—or he could go help Wade decorate his room. It seemed like a no brainer, but he still found himself hesitating slightly.

“You got coffee?” he asked instead of responding clearly, watched as Deadpool seemed to beam, posture relaxing as he held out his hand to the scientist. A drawled ‘duh’ escaped the man and Tony’s lips quirked upward into a slight smile despite his exhaustion. He couldn’t help but stare at the hand cautiously, though. He knew Wade was an Avenger now, had been there through the whole recruitment or whatever, but he still couldn’t say he trusted the guy very much.

He barely even knew him.

He watched Wade falter slightly in his confident stance, saw the way he seemed to shrink slightly into himself—shoulders hunching up a bit, arm tucking a bit closer to his body, torso turning away just a touch—despite being a big guy, and he made up his mind.

Grabbing the hand with his own, he led the way to the elevator.

“Do you have supplies?”

It was surreal, almost, the way the simple gesture and question seemed to lift the man up, like he was walking on air. “Yeah, I’ve got supplies, and coffee, and food—lots of food; it’s a _kitchen_ of food, _so beautiful_.”

Tony couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow in response, but remained silent.

They stepped into the elevator, Tony letting Deadpool’s hand go as FRIDAY took the elevator up to his floor. “Sounds like fun, Deadpool,” Tony said, his tone lighter than it had been before, although the hesitance still laced the edges.

“I hope so. I asked the others if they wanted to help, but only Spidey considered it.” Tony wasn’t very surprised by the fact. Peter was too kind and ready to help people sometimes. “But then they dragged him away to do something else,” Deadpool admitted, scuffing his foot against the floor slightly. “It’s Wade, by the way,” he piped up after a second, head tilted to look at Tony, shoulders hunching again. “You did give me a room, after all. It’s better if you call me by my name. You know, only if you want—no pressure or anything.”

Tony nodded, giving Wade a small smile when the male looked over at him again, trying to be reassuring despite feeling almost completely out of his element.

The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped inside with Wade. The room was small, smaller compared to the other Avengers’ rooms; the walls were bare of decoration and lacking any sense of color. It resembled more of a nice prison cell than a floor in a large tower with a billionaire host.

Tony winced internally.

He had designed this floor, just as he had designed the others, but the only thing he had really given Wade was unlimited movies and television shows on the flat screen, hadn’t added anything special to the room like he had the others. Yet Wade hadn’t complained; he hadn’t complained like the others had when they found something not to their liking—not that there was anything wrong with the complaining. He had given them the go ahead, after all.

He couldn’t remember if he had given Wade the go ahead or if anyone had even bothered to ask the guy if everything was good or if he was comfortable.

The only small comfort he could find in the knowledge of this design compared to the others was that he had known more about the other Avengers than he did Deadpool, so designing their rooms had been so much easier. He hadn’t had the slightest idea what to do with the ex-mercenary’s.

“Over there is the food,” Wade pointed to a small table where plates upon plates of food were crammed onto it, looking for the entire world like a buffet. “Coffee and drinks are here,” he motioned to another small table. “And decorations are here,” he indicated the small boxes crowded off to the side.

Tony smiled, though his heart ached for the man in front of him. He got left out of the group activities too, just like Tony, and even when the guy came up with his own thing no one had wanted to join in.

The worst part was that Tony probably would have done the same had he been invited to join the others.

It felt almost cruel to use Wade as a sort of last resort, to join him only because all the better options were no longer available. It reminded him too much of college when everyone didn’t like him because of how young he was, how rich he was, how smart he was—everyone except Rhodey who, Tony was pretty positive, couldn’t have cared less about any of that if he tried.

Shoving those thoughts away, he poured himself some fresh hot coffee, taking a long swig, already feeling more awake. “Let’s get to work!”

FRIDAY played Tony’s holiday playlist, a mix of various Christmas songs and anything happy. He wasn’t big on holidays, but the songs were catchy and sometimes he needed a break from what he regularly listened to. Wade knew all of the songs and danced along to each and every one, wiggling his hips and waving his arms and it was such a ridiculous sight and looked so outrageously fun that Tony ended up joining in, stiff at first but eventually loosening up.

The tree Wade had gotten was tall, bare of any pine needles; dead, in simpler terms, but not quite, the plant under the bark still green with life. It looked like with enough heat, it would burn bright like a beacon.

“This tree and I have a lot in common,” Wade said conversationally as the song switched.

“What? Being flammable?” Tony teased, meaning it as a joke.

Wade didn’t respond as he fixed the lights strung up on the dead, but not dead, branches. “Naked and vulnerable,” he whispered as he adjusted the lights near the top, stretching his tall body upwards. “But with some decoration,” he grunted as he successfully finished the adjustments, mask wrinkling in a way that indicated a smile as he settled back to look at the tree, “we’re just as pretty as everyone else.” The last words were hushed and said with a sort of reverence, like they were something Wade fiercely believed—or wanted to, anyway.

Tony’s heart broke for the man before him.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say, to do, the air heavy with the words that had been spoken. Wade looked absolutely taken with the sight of the tree, as far as Tony could tell, anyway, his shoulders relaxed and head tilted back, looking at the glittering lights on the bare branches. It made Tony kind of feel like he was intruding, like he was nowhere near close enough to Wade to bear witness to such a moment, but he wasn’t really sure _anyone_ was close enough to Wade to share something like this.

“You know,” Tony started conversationally, feeling the sudden urge to lighten the mood again, to make the man’s shoulders rise in joy instead of the self-conscious slump they had unconsciously fallen into, like the man was coming to the same realization Tony had, “there’s this really great sugar cookie recipe I know. Do you want to make it?”

Wade looked over at him, his shoulders still in that slump, but his head tilted, mask scrunching a bit in what Tony was pretty sure was a grin. “I’d love to! Sugar cookies are the best, aren’t they? Especially when they’re at that perfect point of warmth and cooked to that sweet point that they just bend in your fingers and they’re chewy and delicious.”

Tony couldn’t stop the slight smile from escaping him even if he tried—which he didn’t because Wade deserved to know someone was enjoying his company just like how Wade seemed to be enjoying his.

 

 

 

The days went by after that one day as they typically did. Tony was ashamed to say that he didn’t seek Wade out after that, didn’t call him down for movie night or anything of the like, but let him do his own thing—which, according to FRIDAY, was simply sitting around in his room and watching television. Guilt gnawed at him every day, but he couldn’t think of what to say or do.

What was he supposed to say to a man he didn’t even know too well? He wasn’t good at conversation, wasn’t good at opening up. Wade was sensitive, or seemed to be, anyhow, and the last thing Tony wanted to do was _do_ something or _say_ something that would hurt the guy.

It took him a handful of days before he realized his isolation was hurting the man just as much.

He hadn’t even noticed himself. It had been Peter who had come to talk to him about it.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter called as he knocked stepped into the lab, FRIDAY readily allowing him access. He pushed away from the table he was working at, spinning around to look at the college student and cocking an eyebrow in question. “Do you know what’s wrong with Wade?”

Tony frowned, lips pursing. “No,” he drew out, crossing his arms unconsciously. “Why? What happened?”

Peter shook his head, carding his fingers through his hair. “It’s nothing. It’s probably nothing. I mean, I doubt it’s your fault or anything.”

“Peter, what’s wrong?”

The male sighed, shoulders slumping as he plopped down heavily into one of the spare chairs in the lab. “I don’t know. I just—I finally got to hang out with him like I’ve been promising him I would, and he just seemed so,” he shrugged a bit helplessly, “down.” Tony’s frown deepened, leaning forward a bit. “I tried to get him to smile, asked him about his decorations—I wanted to help him with them, but the others needed me for something else—he said you had helped him decorate, so I figured maybe you might know what was wrong.”

The familiar pang of guilt started up in his chest again, and Tony sighed, mouth tasting sour, swallowing thickly. “I’ve been a less than stellar host,” he muttered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What?”

“Oh, boy,” he sighed, rocking up onto his feet and pushing his chair back towards the table as he headed for the elevator, motioning for Peter to follow him. “Come on, we’re doing buffet night,” he decided, Peter scrambling to follow him into the elevator, a questioning look on his face. “You go tell the rest of the gang; I’m going to go invite Wade.”

Peter still looked vaguely confused, but he nodded his head nonetheless, determination lining his features. It was one of the things Tony loved most about the boy. He was so ready to help, wanted to. It’s what made him such a great addition to the team and such a great—dare he say—friend.

“Does that mean you know what’s wrong?”

He shrugged a little, lips pursing. “I’ve got a working theory.”

They rode the rest of the way up in silence, Peter gnawing on his bottom lip, looking to be deep in thought. When Peter got off the elevator to go gather up the team, Tony called for FRIDAY to order a large assortment of food as the elevator rose to Wade’s floor.

He shouldn’t have been so ignorant to Wade’s moods. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Wade, but here had gone and done precisely that. He wanted to beat himself up for it, hating himself for having messed up again, but he knew that it wouldn’t do any good—FRIDAY consistently informed him of that whenever he would spiral and blame himself for JARVIS’ death and Sokovia and the Avengers falling apart. She would assure him it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t predict the future, that learning from his mistakes was the most important bit.

“Wade,” he called as the doors opened up, and he heard a thump from the living room, turning in that direction only to see Wade with a gun in his hand, a bright pink comforter wrapped around his shoulders, mask hastily pulled.

Going by the color of the sweater Wade was wearing which Tony could see by the sleeve, he guessed the guy wasn’t wearing his suit, standing rigid while Wade stared him down in surprise, lowering the gun and quickly hurrying to unload the magazine, making sure there was nothing in the barrel before setting it to the side, hiding a bare hand back in the comfort of the pink monstrosity wrapped around his shoulders.

“How can I help you?” he intoned after a moment of tense silence, shuffling to sit back down, shifting a bit awkwardly. Tony swallowed thickly, trying to not let the guilt consume him.

“We’re having a buffet night,” he said awkwardly, walking further into the room now that the gun was off of him. He wondered why he hadn’t even tried to shield himself. He wasn’t sure if it spoke of his lack of self-preservation or of his trust in Wade, trust he wasn’t even sure was there, but he wouldn’t doubt its existence if it were to suddenly become more obvious to him.

“Alright, have fun,” Wade called, voice cheery, but there was a falseness to it along with the dismissal as Tony watched him curled deeper into his comforter, trying to make himself smaller without being completely obvious.

It was one of the most unsettling things Tony had ever witnessed—watching a man with Wade’s build looking so small and insignificant.

“What, no—you’re coming,” he declared, walking further into the room. He couldn’t be sure because of the mask, but Tony was fairly certain Wade was looking at him in shock, mask shifting in a way that told Tony the poor guy was trying to say something but the words didn’t seem to be coming out. “Come on, Wade. Peter wants you there, and I want you there. You’re part of the team.”

He still couldn’t be sure, but he felt it was an accurate guess that Wade might have cried a little under the safety of his mask, if the slight sniffle he let out was anything to go by.

 

 

 

Hanging with Wade was an adventure, to say the least.

Peter was present half of the time, something Tony was grateful for since he could serve as a buffer. Sometimes Wade’s bountiful energy was too much for him to deal with, especially when Wade would go off on little side tangents, ending up having a full-blown conversation with himself.

Peter always put his finger to his lips when that would happen to stop Tony from saying anything, instead sitting calmly and listening, chiming in with something that sounded related to whatever Wade had been muttering about, bringing the guy out of whatever he had trailed off into.

Those side conversations always made him hesitate, wonder if he was truly safe sitting next to a man who would talk to himself and get agitated, joking about dismemberment and death like it was natural.

He didn’t like questioning his safety with Wade, though. It wasn’t fun, but he knew he wasn’t alone in it. He could see the hesitation in Peter, and he wondered if Wade was aware of it. The guy seemed blissfully ignorant to it all, but Tony couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was a lie.

 

 

 

“Deadpool, that wasn’t a laughing matter. You shouldn’t be acting like that on the field—it propagates a negative image.”

Tony watched from the sidelines are Steve tore into Wade. The two had a weird relationship, one of adoration and respect on Wade’s side and mild respect and plentiful irritation on Steve’s part. It kind of made Tony feel bad for the guy. He had been on the receiving end of Steve’s righteous fury before, and it was not a fun place to be—especially if you looked up to him.

Wade seemed unfazed, though, even as Steve kept going, advancing and gesticulating, blue eyes chips of ice and pink mouth curled into something not quite ugly but not quite right. Wade just stood there, hip cocked, still looking like he was buzzing with the adrenaline left over from the battle.

“Killing isn’t a game, Deadpool!”

“Don’t ask me—why would I know what he’s upset about?” Wade muttered, and Tony stiffened slightly, cottoning on to the tell-tale sign of Wade about to go into a side conversation, something he had yet to do around the others. He cocked his head to the side slightly, looking like he was thinking, but it was impossible to tell through the mask. The interruption had only made Steve falter slightly, serving as fuel for his anger rather than an inhibitor.

Tony watched Peter move closer to Wade, lenses of his suit narrowed slightly, looking tense and ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Tony wasn’t sure if Peter was tense because of Wade or Steve, though, but it soon became clear when a particularly large gesture accompanied with a sharp rise in the volume of his voice from Steve made Peter dart back a few steps, taking a broader arc around him to reach Wade.

And the second he touched Wade’s hand, the muttering that had been going on with more frequency stopped, Wade turning his head to look over at Peter, his lack of attention of Steve giving the super soldier pause. It gave Tony pause even, as he watched Peter tug slightly at Wade’s hand till the former mercenary turn to face him bodily, head cocking to the side like a puppy.

And Tony wasn’t sure how he knew that the look Peter sent him over Wade’s shoulder was pleading for him to do something, but he did, so he clapped his hands together, turning to look at the team, now that Steve had stopped his yelling.

“How about we all go wash up and cool off, yeah? No more fighting with each other after fighting baddies, got it? Shove off, all of you,” he instructed, watching with a critical eye as the other filed out, their body language speaking volumes, but they were thankfully quiet, only throwing the odd look back at Wade—none of which were friendly.

“You good, Wade,” he asked as he stepped closer, armored steps echoing in the silence of the room. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could see Wade trembling a bit—a lot if it was noticeable. Peter still had a hold of Wade’s hand, holding it steady.

“Of course I am, tin man,” Wade sang, seeming to snap out of whatever fog he had been in, letting go of Peter’s hand and twirling around with the same pep Tony was used to.

It made him wonder even more how much of the bliss was fake.

 

 

 

“Sir, Mister Wilson has fired one of his guns.”

“What, why—I’ll be right there.”

“Mister Wilson has requested no one be allowed to access his room.”

“Then, override it!”

 

 

 

A lot of the bliss was a mask, Tony realized, as he watched Wade assure Peter he was fine, as if there wasn’t blood staining the walls and ceiling, no sign of a forced entry—no enemy, but a gun still on the floor and blood still staining white.

A blissful mask on top of the red mask, hiding a scarred man with a litany of problems none of them really were sure how to approach. Peter seemed the most apt, the most eager, already tugging Wade’s hand into his own and whispering to him in a low voice as he asked him questions, trying to get a grasp of the situation.

Tony watched them, and then he looked down at his phone for the visual playback of what had gone down, FRIDAY’s footage detailing the incident clearly.

He looked back up at Peter and Wade.

On his screen, distraught, lifeless blue eyes stared up at him.

Before him, bright, white lenses masqueraded a smile in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on instagram ( saruma_aki ) and tumblr ( saruma-aki )!
> 
> Leave me your thoughts in the comments below! <3


End file.
